


Demons

by niawen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Desk Sex, M/M, PWP, possible canon deviation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niawen/pseuds/niawen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik tries to make sense of Altair but words have never been their strong suit.  Porn without plot.  AC:R/Bowden works do not exist as far as I'm concerned, you've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons

Altair ibn La'Ahad was a murderer.  And worse yet, he was not above finding a visceral thrill in violence... not above the enjoyment of the hunt.  Or of the kill.  Reconciling this fact with himself hadn't ever been difficult, which was perhaps the most terrifying part of all.  Altair had always been a killer, even before his thirteenth year when he took his first official target.  He was a war orphan, though, and while he remembered almost nothing about the time before he was an Assassin, he did remember blood.  His parentage had always remained a mystery, and his half-anglo features always a product of gossip around the fortress of Masyaf when nothing new occupied the Novices.  His prodigy was another common topic.  Growing up, Altair had flown through accelerated training- he possessed immense dexterity and raw, brute strength and even as a gangly teen, could still outperform men twice his age in the sparring ring.  He was cunning and vicious and had gained infamy quickly after his official induction to the Novice rank at age twelve.  At twenty he was Master-ranked and notorious among his Brothers and enemies alike.  When he was twenty five, Masyaf nearly fell and Altair was named Grandmaster in the bloodsoaked back garden.

 

"You talk about yourself like you are an animal."

 

Altair looked up from his writings and smirked a little wanly.  He was tired and his eyes were dull in the candlelight of his office and the piles of unending missives, reports, and expenses heaped all over his desk did not promise rest any time soon.  Malik stood near the doorway, rifling through a sheaf of trade deals that still needed to be endorsed by the highest authority of Masyaf.  Altair wondered when he would get to them.  It was Malik who had brought Altair's current train of thought to where it was, and also the one responsible for halting it with his quiet statement.  Altair felt uncharacteristically subdued and did not make eye contact with him.  "And you talk about me like I am a bumbling Novice.  So?"  Altair asked, the attempt at his usual disagreeable nature flimsy and hollow.  He hoped Malik did not notice.

 

Malik did.  He gave his Grandmaster a shrewd stare.  "You are the most arrogant thing on this mountain, even after all of your trials and even after how much you have changed.  And yet, when you speak about yourself you sound as though you are describing a bloodthirsty animal- and not in a particularly flattering light."  His words were clipped and concise, as though conducting a business  transaction with exact tender.  "Every time I think I have you figured out, you go and do something surprising."

 

"We were children together, Malik," Altair returned a little more tired and exasperated than he meant to sound.  "Nothing I do should surprise you."

 

Malik snorted, clearly unconvinced.  "You went from an arrogant, reckless force of destruction to an arrogant, reckless force of destruction with some focus and restraint in only a few short months.  Surely you don't mean to tell me that growing up with your obnoxious one-upmanship and violent tendencies could have prepared me for that."

 

Altair's face spasmed.  A second later, he grimaced, trying to scowl instead but not quite succeeding.  Malik had absolved him of responsibility for what had transpired in Solomon's Temple but Altair had never let go of his guilt.  It had only been two years since but where Malik seemed as though he was learning how to get on with his life, Altair's nightmares and inner machinations were never far from those crumbling, dust-choked passages and the sight of Malik clutching his deadened, shredded left arm in the main hall.  The memory of Kadar staring at him with an awestruck, childish adoration in the darkened hallways haunted him with a tenacity that made him physically ill to think about.  He pursed his lips.  "I..." He faltered.  Malik stared at him so sharply that he was half certain the Dai could simply see what was going on in his mind.  He tried frantically to salvage the moment and failed.  He looked away, jaw set and expression stony.

 

Malik drew closer and leaned against the corner of the desk in a movement that was so casual it struck Altair as uncharacteristic.  "Why do you do this?" 

 

Altair found Malik's tone confusing- somehow harsh and impatient but coaxing at the same time.  His jaw remained shut, however, unable to form a coherent answer.

 

Malik made a face that looked like an exasperated smirk but it somehow came across as a little bit pained and a little bit sad.  "Altair, I forgave you.  I will not lie and tell you it was easy but you have changed."

 

Altair smirked hollowly and kept his face averted.  "How much could I have changed?  I am still the same thing I always was... something that kills and something that enjoys it."

 

"I think the fact that you now apparently refer to yourself like this a fairly solid indicator that you are not the same arrogant brat you were.  You possess awareness now, Altair.  And a shred of humility buried under all that."  He gestured vaguely towards the Grandmaster.  "You know what the price can be for thinking yourself invincible."

 

Altair turned away again, the movement jerky and quick, as though remembering that looking towards Malik caused pain.  "But..."

 

"You must think I am an idiot not to see how this eats you up inside and leaves you feeling hollow and loafing around your apartments like a sack of meal for days on end," Malik finally snarked back, feeling fed up with this.  He did not want to discuss what had happened at Solomon's Temple.  Nor did he want to relive the horrific memories of torture and death and blood and the inconsolable loss of Kadar.  "I do not let myself wallow.  Neither can you.  You can't afford to, _Grandmaster_."

 

"You didn't do that to yourself!" Altair snapped back, his teeth bared and his eyes narrowed furiously.  "No matter what comes, that will never leave me."

 

"It shouldn't," Malik stated simply and Altair finally stared at him.  "If it did, you would not have learned anything and this conversation would not even be happening.  You would likely still be wreaking havoc with your every step and not thinking twice about it."

 

"You want me to carry my burden but to also not be consumed with guilt over it," Altair muttered, crossing his arms over his chest tightly.

 

Malik reached down suddenly and his hand was at Altair's collar, his fingers curled gently in the neck of his robes.  "I want you to understand what happened and why.  And then I want you to learn to forgive yourself."

 

Altair's face was surprised and in that, more vulnerable than Malik had seen in a long while.  "You speak as though I am capable of forgiveness," he growled softly.  Malik shook his head slowly and closed his eyes, a long exhale escaping him.  Altair pursed his lips, the thin scar bisecting them pressing with the motion.

 

"You will learn," Malik said with such finality that Altair believed him for a moment.  "You are Grandmaster now, the Syrian Assassins rely on you to lead them and they trust you explicitly.  Those of us who know of their existence believe you are the only man alive who can protect us from the Pieces of Eden and all the forces in the world that would try to unleash them.  You are already repenting.  Let yourself."

 

Altair sighed heavily, his eyes half-lidded and his expression somewhere between stubborn and defeated.  Malik was fascinated by him for a second, unable to deny that he was an interesting creature.  Altair was proud and arrogant- even now- but he was also far more complex than Malik had given him credit for in their youth.  Though to be fair Altair had been too much of a stubborn, violent asshole to consider for long periods of time.  Malik was still growing accustomed to this matured Altair, the one that climbed out onto the tower eaves to brood in the biting mountain winds and who barked orders confidently at Master and Dai ranked Assassins twice his age.  The one who was slowly but surely ingratiating himself to Malik... the one who he was growing irrevocably closer to.  Malik frowned sharply at that last thought.  But he could no more make it untrue than grow his arm back.

 

There was, at least, little need to speak these thoughts aloud.  Both of them relied on actions and unspoken things to convey whatever affections they had and Malik recognized the look on Altair's face perhaps before the Grandmaster did.  Altair's concept of want had long been associated with violence and force and a frightening/exhilarating hunger that was unquenchable for Malik but he was slowly uncovering this other side of Altair, now that they were older and Altair had stopped desiring to humiliate and use him.  The look on Altair's face, under all that unconcealable moodiness was a quiet need.  Malik did not know what words to assign this formless desire but he knew what it meant.

 

Altair had one weakness and Malik wasn't sure if he could rightly say it was himself but it very concretely involved him- and his arm, and Kadar, and all the shit Altair had put him through in their teens.  And when Altair was drowning in his one weakness he lost his will to argue and his eyes- usually sharp and so frighteningly predatory- would avert and go half-lidded and dark like molten gold.  Altair was not someone in possession of a wide spectrum of emotions, he knew, but what he was capable of he wore on his face plain as text in a book.  Malik might have still held a lot of confusion regarding this Altair but he couldn't help but feel compelled to indulge his one weakness.

 

He reached out lifted his hand to Altair's face, running his thumb along the stubbled line of his jaw and gently pulled his skull straight to look at him in the face and take in the darkness to his ochre eyes.  "Your moodiness is unbecoming," Malik said so matter-of-factly Altair couldn't quite choke down the smirk.

 

"Shut up," the Grandmaster responded, still averting his eyes and fighting down the pain.

 

"No.  Your imperious bullshit and notoriety among the Novices suits you, god forbid it," Malik said with a huff and roll of his dark eyes.  "Come here before I say more embarrassing shit, I don't even have any hasish around here to blame."

 

Altair let out a humored breath and leaned in where Malik directed him.  Their lips met and it was without the usual force and hunger, though they mouthed at each other with an indecent, practiced familiarity.  Sure they were all fire and grabbing, possessive hands most of the time, but Malik supposed that their long, turbulent history undoubtedly contributed to these trysts that were so... full of the type of fire that was slow burning but unstoppable, scorching them both and leaving them shell-shocked and dazed.  At the first press of Malik's tongue, Altair's hunger seemed to awaken fully, though that animal drive for contact and possessive tendencies was never far from the surface with him.  He parted his lips to allow entry, sucking at Malik's lips and tongue with reckless abandon.

 

Malik had the grace to feel slightly exasperated with the pair of them as he slid off the desk to slink closer to the Grandmaster, his arm draping over his shoulder to twine his fingers in the fine hairs at his hairline.  Both of Altair's hands were tangled in his robes a second later, fisting great bunches of his dark surcoat possessively without wrenching him in.  Every one of Altair's movements- the grabbing, the impatient lean of his torso, the tense of his thighs- spoke of a hunger that could not be quenched or contained and Malik found himself responding in kind, greedily yanking Altair in closer by the arm coiled around his neck. 

 

Altair released his grip to fumble with the ties of Malik's robes, undoing them hastily and parting the white tunic in a rush, baring an expanse of tightly muscled, dark skin.  He shifted to slide his hands to the Dai's hips, his fingers tight and possessive but not violent.  His arms flexed tightly, pulling Malik in closer until the difference between Altair seated and Malik standing between his thighs made kissing too uncomfortable and Altair simply moved his mouth to Malik's torso, licking and sucking and nipping down his midline.  Malik hissed at the first delicate press of teeth-  Altair was infuriatingly capable in the bedroom and it irritated and thrilled Malik alternately and he didn't know whether to be angry or simply bask in the Grandmaster's attentions. 

 

Altair had the most _wicked_ mouth; perfectly shaped lips, sharp teeth, and a clever tongue that found its way to the most questionable of spots without hesitation or shame- and that _infernal_ smirk.  The scar only served to bring more focus to the Grandmaster's hungry, evil mouth and when it drew Malik's attention during endless meetings the sight of Altair's lips curling would infuriate him.  Malik was brought back with a sharp gasp as Altair nipped him possessively, scraping his teeth and looking up at Malik as though challenging him to reprimand the action.  Malik did no such thing, jerking a little on his feet as his cock stirred to attention at the sight of Altair's flushed lips trailing down his sternum towards his navel and the lower planes of his stomach.  "Don't think you can tease me and get away without paying your due, _Master_ ," Malik growled breathlessly, curling his fingers in Altair's hair tightly as the Grandmaster reached to free Malik of his heavy leather waistguard.

 

"What is it that I owe you, Malik?" Altair hissed softly, dropping the leather to the floor and the throwing knives stored there clattered across the stone.

 

Malik frowned at the look on Altair's face and the flat tone in which he spoke; devoid of his usual arrogance and challenge.  He scowled a little and Altair's eyes- liquid and blacker in the shadow of Malik's body- tracked up the slope of Malik's chest and finally met his irritable gaze.  "I'm sure you can think of _something_ ," Malik snarled impatiently, swaying his hips forward to emphasize the size and insistence of his erection, already straining at his pants under Altair's heated attentions. 

 

Altair seemed unsatisfied with that answer- his eyes sharpened suddenly with annoyance- but his hands were deft and impatient as they fussed with the laces of Malik's fitted breeches, opening the fly roughly and yanking him forward by the garment.  Malik wanted to leer but Altair's mouth was already closing around the head of his cock and he couldn't scrape together the brainpower to come up with a suitable retort.  Instead he lurched a little on his feet and gasped wetly, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room.  Malik felt Altair's lips twitch into a predatory smirk and he snarled again, though the effect was seriously undermined by the way his mouth dropped open and he'd started panting.

 

The Grandmaster moved his tongue in rolling, heavy motions while he sucked aggressively at Malik's cock, still swelling in his mouth and pulsing with eager heat at each press.  Altair was not skilled at taking it deep (his gag was a sensitive thing, upset by anything even remotely aggressive) but he compensated by stroking Malik's shaft tightly and sucking fiercely at what he could take.  Malik had him by the hair and his grip tightened hungrily as Altair worked, listening to his breath go jagged and needy, his robes sliding off his body in a way that was particularly immodest.  Altair decided he liked it very much.

 

Malik saw the smirk and snarled again, aggravated that even after Altair's vulnerable outburst he still had the arrogance needed to look like such a smug fuck down there.  Malik jerked his skull back none too gently and felt his own lips curl at the soft gasp the Grandmaster let out.  "Good boy," Malik praised condescendingly, knowing (hoping) it would incite Altair.

 

"You can talk to me like a pet all you please, I'm still your Grandmaster," Altair returned immediately, a defiant glint to his eyes.

 

Malik leaned back and seated himself on Altair's desk, arching his spine and bracing his single hand behind him.  The effect was pronounced- his body bent into a tight, graceful curve that lead right to the swollen, thick cock jutting out of his pants.  He quite enjoyed the way Altair's eyes slid down his bare torso and seemed to find themselves stuck studying the size and swell of his dick.  Malik watched the predator in Altair suddenly surge to the surface- his pupils dilated until they'd nearly swallowed the ring of ochre and his eyes went nearly black, zeroed in on his body and looking for all the world like nothing would tear his attention away.  Malik's spine arched a little more sharply, urging Altair to hurry up.  The Grandmaster did not disappoint, surging from his seat and grabbing any part of Malik he could reach, gathering him closer with a greedy urgency that made their flesh heat and shiver. 

 

Altair flung open one of the drawers of his desk, rifling through the contents one-handedly while he and Malik kissed furiously for a moment, knocking things out onto the floor carelessly until his fingers closed around a vial of oil.  Malik had lost track of everything until Altair shifted his hips and a wet finger pressed up against his flushed entrance.  Malik gasped unflatteringly and spread his thighs a little wider to assist in the preparation.  He swore under his breath but Altair's mouth was against his again an instant later, swallowing his gasps and oaths hungrily. 

 

Two fingers spread Malik open, scissoring gently while kiss-bruised lips and a curious tongue wended along the curve of his throat to suck below his ear, nipping possessively at precisely the same  moment Altair twisted his fingers and pressed.  Malik's cock twitched and the noise out of his mouth inflamed them both, the sudden shock of pleasure making his body jolt against Altair's and his flesh to throb.  They'd been at this so long that preparation was efficient and quick- both of them too impatient to last through their usual extensive foreplay tonight.  Altair pressed in and wrenched at his pants and another second later, was nudging up against Malik's hot, compliant body.

 

Malik let his head roll back as Altair seized his hips and adjusted his position against the desk, leaning backwards and heaving as Altair pressed against him.  The sweet tension lasted another second before the impatient Grandmaster let out a hungry growl and pushed harder, his cock sinking into Malik and the Dai's answering gasp was rough and wanton. 

 

Things only devolved from there.  Altair pumped feverishly, his strokes full and excruciatingly deep, rubbing Malik's prostate and sending his second in command into a keening fit.  Malik's voice was husky and shameless, his fingers curled so tightly against Altair's shoulders that he might well have left bruises on the Grandmaster's flesh.  He didn't care... and neither did Altair.  There was a few moments of frenzied movement- Malik arched tightly, contorted into a graceful curve and Altair gave a heady, growling groan...

 

They both lost it within a breath of each other, Malik coming hot and hard and untouched, spilling over his own bulging, twitching length as Altair filled him with a ragged gasp that was utterly _filthy_.  When he pulled away a second later, he eyed the mess between Malik's thighs with an unrepentant approval scrawled plainly on his sharp features.  He sighed deeply and finally smirked in earnest.

 

"Good boy," Malik said again, leering at the sight of Altair, his robes rumpled and his cock still mostly hard, pushing out of his disheveled pants.

 

"Shut up."


End file.
